


the world we live in is the world we live in

by AllegoriesInMediasRes



Series: OT3 AU verse fics [3]
Category: Historical RPF, The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bastardy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Fanfiction, Multi, Oneshot, Period Typical Attitudes, Polyamory, Unconventional Families, also posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25833580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllegoriesInMediasRes/pseuds/AllegoriesInMediasRes
Summary: Set in mihrsuri's OT3 AU verse.Soon after the Prince of Wales was born, Mary had begun to notice some subtleties. She had noticed the looks that passed between her father and his chief counselor, the way they automatically bent their heads together, how Anne’s eyes turned soft for both her husband and for the Lord Chancellor.The blood of the Inquisition runs strong in Mary’s veins, but her soul has withstood the Pope’s rejection, and her mind has been exposed to the Reformation’s most cogent arguments, and her heart was rejuvenated only through Anne’s intercession. Silently she had seen the silent love that bound all three together, and silently she had come to terms with it.Soon after the Duke of York is born, Mary notices some more subtleties, and this time all her silence morphs into cold fear.(An AU of my AU, "If You Love This Coast", with a different take on Mary's motivations.)
Relationships: Anne Boleyn/Thomas Cromwell/Henry VIII of England
Series: OT3 AU verse fics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1874566
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	the world we live in is the world we live in

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mihrsuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihrsuri/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Rewrite The Stars For You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13066005) by [mihrsuri](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mihrsuri/pseuds/mihrsuri). 



> This fic is set in mihrsuri's OT3 verse, and will not make sense without knowledge of that.
> 
> I have written another fic, "If You Love This Coast", that explores how Mary reacts to discovering some of her half-siblings' paternity. This is an alternate take on that fic, where she is still dismayed but for different reasons than in that fic.
> 
> This piece contains period-typical attitudes towards bastardy and non-heterosexual relationships, as well as references to past child abuse.

Soon after the Prince of Wales was born, Mary had begun to notice some subtleties. She had noticed the looks that passed between her father and his chief counselor, the way they automatically bent their heads together, how Anne’s eyes turned soft for both her husband and for the Lord Chancellor. 

The blood of the Inquisition runs strong in Mary’s veins, but her soul has withstood the Pope’s rejection, and her mind has been exposed to the Reformation’s most cogent arguments, and her heart was rejuvenated only through Anne’s intercession. Silently she had seen the silent love that bound all three together, and silently she had come to terms with it. 

Soon after the Duke of York is born, Mary notices some more subtleties, and this time all her silence morphs into cold fear. 

Fear that someone, somewhere will make the connection between George's dark curls and the Duke of Essex, and civil war will rip England apart. Fear that Elizabeth and Tommy will be branded bastards as well. Fear that should her father’s ardor for Anne ever cool, he will have the perfect excuse to send her to the Tower. Fear that if people believe that King Henry’s younger children are bastards, they may well believe Mary herself is a bastard, Katherine of Aragon’s reputation for virtue notwithstanding. 

(And maybe there is a bit of anger as well. Anger, that Anne had chosen to put her children -- Mary’s siblings -- at risk. Anger, that Thomas Cromwell, so famed for his quiet diligent intelligence, should commit such treason. Anger, petulant though it is, that Anne witnessed how Mary suffered at her father’s hands, and she still blithely decided to let Cromwell sire her child, as though she did not know how mercurial the King of England could be, as though all the pain Mary had been through was for nothing.)

“Love happens where it might,” she says when she confronts Anne and Cromwell, “even when it must be kept secret, but to write it out in the face of an innocent child?”

Mary’s face feels hot, and she knows she must look flushed.

“I had noticed, ever since Tommy was born, what the three of you share, and I thought nothing of it, that if it brought you all some quiet happiness, there was nothing wrong in it. But I never dreamed you would be so foolish as to do _this._ ”

Anne lifts her chin. Her voice is soothing when she speaks, as though trying to coax Mary. “We are married in the sight of God, and all our children are legitimate. I had thought you --”

“ _My_ understanding is immaterial, Your Majesty, or do you not know that?” Mary snaps, frustration driving her to interrupt her queen. “The world we live in is the world we live in.”

“I know more of the world than Your Highness might suspect, having risen from the breweries of Putney to the Lord Chancellor.” Cromwell’s voice is measured and decidedly respectful, but the iciness is palpable, and Anne lays a hand on his wrist. 

“It was the King who raised you there, and the King who can drag you down,” Mary presses. “Did either of you ever stop to think that if my father should grow angry with you, on some pretext or another, you have handed him the grounds for treason? Did you ever stop to consider the _consequences_?”

Tears break into her eyes as she tries to find the words that capture the magnitude of their betrayal. “I can hardly believe that you bear so little love for George. And you, my lord of Essex, if you consider yourself a father to Elizabeth and Tommy, as you claim, did you never stop to think that this could taint them as well?”

Her throat is briefly too tight to permit speaking. 

“You might know what it is to be common, but I know what it is to be a bastard. Even at your lowest standing, you have always been able to claim legitimacy, and I can tell you that there is a stigma to bastardy like nothing else. The things that people _assume_ of you…”

Haltingly, she tells them of the music master who had enticed her with sweets and promises and pretty words. She had been ten or eleven, after the papal legate declared her parents’ marriage invalid but made in good faith, leaving Mary in limbo. She was a princess but in name only, her father having banished her mother from court in fear of how she would influence Mary, and her status was uncertain. The music master had tried to tempt her, and he had ripped her gown and she had screamed, and he had laughed and told her that she was only a bastard girl, that she had desired his attentions and that no one would believe her or care. She managed to escape, and soon after he was dismissed for another reason, but even after she was restored, she never spoke of it to anyone. 

“Perhaps I should have spoken of it, bared my shame for all to see, and then you might have reconsidered what you planned.” Anne and Cromwell are ashen-faced, when she is finished, and some small part of Mary is gratified to know that they are horrified, that what she went through was as wrong as she always thought it was. The greater part of her is incensed, however, that they are so ignorant that she had to spell out all the implications of their actions to them.

“I was truly my father’s child, the daughter of a Princess of Spain, with the Pope speaking in my favor, and still that was my lot in life for years. George will be the bastard-born child of two commoners, and all your power derives from the King.”

Tears threaten again, and this time they fall, carving hot paths down her cheeks. “Did you ever consider, Your Grace, that _my_ place depends upon yours?” She focuses her attention on Anne. “It was only by your intervention that I was restored, and if your star should fall, my star will fall with yours?”

She pauses to catch her breath. “I would lose my best ally at court, and if my father should someday turn against me, there will be no one to speak for me.”

Mary closes her eyes. “Did _I_ mean so little to you?”

She whispers it so softly that Mary almost cannot hear her own words.

Silence reigns supreme, and when Mary opens her eyes again, Anne and Thomas are engaged in a quiet conversation, debating what next to say. Really, though, what more is there to say? George has been born, and all the references to his Welsh ancestry will not change the spring of his curls or the shape of his brow. She will have to bear this secret for the rest of his life, and pray that it never comes to light. 

All of Mary’s fear and anger drains away, in the face of the incontrovertible truth. What use do rage and terror have? She is only _disappointed_ , she finds. She had known she could never trust her father again, but she did not think that Anne would prove to be so fallible as well, ignoring reality for the sake of her whims. Mary can understand the pain of forbidden love, and perhaps one day, there will be no need for people like Anne or the Duke of Essex to hide. That day will not come for another thousand years, however, and they should have been intelligent enough to recognize that. What is the weight of love against the threat of civil war, against the shadow of the Tower and the steel of the headsman's axe and the caprices of a King? Mary can make no excuse for dedicating an innocent child’s life to such danger, and she does not think she will ever look at her second mother the same way again.

She rises, cutting off Anne and Thomas’s discussion. “I have nothing more to say to you, Your Graces. You know full well what the repercussions might be, and I know full well how little power I have over your next actions.”

Mary may be the eldest Princess of England, but there is nothing she can do to combat the foolishness of a Queen and the most favored Duke in England.

 _I have spent my life learning how little power I have_.

“All I can do is love George as my brother, as I do Elizabeth and Tommy. And if it should ever prove necessary, I will do everything in my power to protect them.”

“Thank you, Mary,” Anne says faintly from somewhere behind her. “Truly, I thank you. I had not realized just how much -- but thank you. It gladdens me more than I can say to know you are on their side.”

Mary turns back around. “I do not do it for your sake,” she says, and hurt spasms across her second mother’s face. Mary softens her voice, for she has no desire to hurt her, even if she has lost faith in her. “I do it because they are innocent children.” _Children as I was, blameless but blamed, faultless but punished._ “Innocent children who could one day be in great danger thanks to your actions. And should it come down to a choice between you and them, I will not hesitate to make it.”


End file.
